


Do you remember?

by wanderlight (Aoftheis)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunk Sex, Hogwarts Era, Light Angst, M/M, Marauders' Era, Mutual Pining, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 16:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoftheis/pseuds/wanderlight
Summary: For the past hour they've played a lazy, half-drunk game of "Do you remember?": a parade of the best and worst moments of the glory years."Do you remember," Sirius says, voice low, "the Astronomy Tower?""No," Remus says, not looking away. Sirius' eyes say, I know you do."You remember," Sirius says. He bites down on his bottom lip, deliberately, and Remus shudders.





	Do you remember?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [dogdaysofsummer](http://dogdaysofsummer.livejournal.com) [day 22](http://community.livejournal.com/dogdaysofsummer/316275.html#cutid1).

They sprawl across the roof, haphazardly strung together by touching elbows and hips and the bottle of beer that's passed around: James-Sirius-Remus-Peter, one entity. It's the second week in July, after seventh year, and they're spending it suspended in limbo at the Potters' summer house.

For the past hour they've played a lazy, half-drunk game of "Do you remember?": a parade of the best and worst moments of the glory years. It's too fucking hot but Remus doesn't move away from the heat of Sirius pressed up against his side, Sirius' hand on his knee, casually, like it's an accident.

"Do you remember when," says Peter pensively, "we all ran into Sirius and Tony Baker, making out behind Greenhouse Two?"

"Oh, shit," Sirius moans.

"Oh _Merlin_ ," says James. "I remember, but I wish I didn't."

"Everyone's allowed to experiment," Remus says, vaguely gesturing with the beer. He finishes it off and tosses it from the roof, swish-and- _flick_ of his wrist. It clinks against the other empties littering the flower-beds below; a random scattering, crushing the marigolds. "Sirius, pass me another?"

Remus' fingers brush Sirius' on the neck of the bottle, and, in the languor of his movements, stay. Almost by accident, he catches Sirius watching him with a half-smile. Remus could almost take a picture of that, in profile: jagged fall of dark hair, long-lashed eye, haughty nose, lips stained red, faint scar along the chin -- all contrasting against the empty blue sky. He wishes James or Peter would say something to shatter the moment.

Sirius arches an eyebrow like a question.

"What?"

"Do you remember," Sirius says, voice low, "the Astronomy Tower?"

"No," Remus says, not looking away. Sirius' eyes say, _I know you do_.

He does.

The memory is tucked down underneath layers of memorised spells and childhood memories and random Muggle trivia, but when Remus tugs it, carefully, to the surface, it's still intact, a Technicolour snapshot. Just him and Sirius, alone, together, a little cold in the dark.

They'd shared a bottle, very much like this. About a year ago. Must've been more than one bottle actually, and a little bit of something else: they were shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing warmth, and then a misplaced joke about getting off and somehow Sirius was practically in Remus' lap, lips against his jaw, sharing breath. _Want to_? Sirius looking up at him, grin like a dirty secret and pupils blown. _What the hell, Sirius_? And then the light pressure of teeth -- _like this, Moony, like this_ \-- and that was all it took for Remus to part his lips for Sirius' tongue, like an invitation.

"You remember," Sirius says. He bites down on his bottom lip, deliberately, and Remus shudders.

Exposed to air and sky at the top of the tower, they'd been silent, catching each other's moans in their mouths. Hands on shoulders, waists, the small of his back, desperately undoing belts, discarding clothes like inhibitions on the stones. Hard angles and planes fitting up against each other. Getting elbows and knees out of the way until it was just the long line of Sirius' body pressing into his, hard, laying him down on the ground. Sometimes at night, closed in by bed-curtains, Remus allows himself to remember the slide of Sirius' bare, sweat-slick skin stuttering across his own.

 _See, more fun this way_ , Sirius had said, as the ache built -- then Remus was struggling out and fumbling on his clothes. Sirius had lain there, hard and trembling and shocked, and Remus turned and walked away without saying anything or looking back. Because fuck if the thing he'd wanted for five years was just going to be just a night of fun to forget about when the next skirt walked by. If it could only be that he'd rather have nothing at all, even if walking away was the hardest thing he'd done in his life.

The next morning, Sirius had looked at him maybe a second too long. But neither of them had said anything, then or ever again.

"What?" James says. "What happened on the Astronomy Tower?"

"Never mind," Sirius says evenly.

Remus tugs the bottle from Sirius' fingers and looks away. Down below the view stretches out in front of them forever like peace, green green green and a single tree crouching on the horizon. "It's nothing, James."

Sirius says, too suddenly: "Oi, Prongs, do you remember when you got drunk and did Melanie Stephens?"

" _What_?" James sits bolt upright. "No, actually, I _don't_ remember! How drunk was I? When did I --"

"It's okay, Prongs," Peter says, long-suffering. "He's just fucking with you."

Sirius claps James on the shoulder and grins.

James nearly succeeds in pushing Sirius off the roof, and in the scuffle, they all forget. So Remus can bury the memory again, under Sirius' indifference and the summer heat.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I'm about seven years late in uploading all of my fic to the AO3. Better late than never? I miss fandom — come say hi @aoftheis on [twitter](http://twitter.com/aoftheis/) or [tumblr](http://aoftheis.tumblr.com).


End file.
